I Am Ryuuzu
by bootslots
Summary: The story of the journal's previous owner, Ryuuzu. Based on HetaOni. Oneshot. Rated T for HetaOni


The first time they all died. Every last one, friend and rival alike. I was alone.

Then I found the journal.

The journal. The journal that saved and destroyed my life. And I signed it, signed my name on the line, to go back and save my friends. My friends who I had seen die before my very eyes.

Somehow I knew even then that I would not succeed.

The second time, only two died. They died protecting me. Why was I so weak?! I used the journal to go back again. I had to save them. I had to save everybody.

And so it went, time after time, I would get a little bit further each time. They would die later, be one step closer to getting them all out. But at the same time I was going nowhere. They were still dying. I still had to be protected. I fought the monster for them, only to need them to sacrifice themselves to save me.

I lost track of how many time loops I'd travelled, how many times I'd seen them die. How many times they'd died defending me. Why did they have to do that?! I just needed to get them out safe, and I couldn't do that if they kept putting themselves in more danger!

I lost hope.

We would never get out alive. Even as they joked and laughed, daring others to enter the "harmless" mansion, they were dead. Because all who enter the mansion were doomed. I saw that now. The journal was only to catch the survivors, force them to stay until they died as well. I could do nothing but accept this fact. My friends had long been dead.

I still remember sitting in the middle of a circle of bodies, my friends' blood staining my clothes, as I stared at the journal. The journal. It was useless now. I could find the monster and end this right now.

But something in me snapped.

The blood and death was all I had, but why should it be hated? Why not learn to enjoy the "life" I now had, as one doomed to an inevitable death in this mansion? Why not learn to take joy in the death?

It was all I could do.

I used the journal another time. I smiled as my friends ran from the monster. I grinned as they stepped in front of me, yelling for me to run, that they'd be fine if I just ran away _right now_. I laughed as their blood spilled across the floor. One by one, they fell once again. Every last one. And each time I was by their side, laughing as their wounds dragged them down to death. When the last of them had died in my arms, believing themselves to have saved me from the monster, I used the journal again. And again. And again...

I enjoyed every death.

But it grew boring to watch the same actions, the same faces in agony as blood spilled out of their frail bodies. I tired of their deaths. I needed new victims. And at the same time, a small part of me was screaming out that this _wasn't right_. That they were my friends, that we all needed to escape.

Escape.

Escape!

That's it! I had to escape! For the final time I used the journal, and allowed my doomed friends to complete the maze of the mansion, to find the exit. I didn't enjoy these deaths, they had become routine, uninteresting. Only one of them survived with me to the end, receiving a fatal gash along their side in the final battle.

So I alone left the mansion, in search of more victims whose deaths I would laugh at. Victims who wouldn't just run and hide until the monster killed them. I needed victims who stood even the slightest chance of escaping.

And then I saw them. The Nations. Nations! They must be perfect for this! I made sure that the most gullible of them overheard of the mansion, careful to make it appear as if it wasn't the deathtrap it was. He fell for it.

The Nations died, one by one, in the mansion. It was perfect, beautiful even, how they fought back against the monster, its blood pooled on the floor just as any human's. How they nearly escaped, and sacrificed themselves for the others.

One survived to escape. I couldn't have that. No one survived here. No one. So I left the journal where he would find it. He sealed his doom the moment he wrote his name. As he travelled in time, so did I, both of us still linked to the journal.

I watched them all die just as he did. And I could see in his eyes that he was breaking inside. He was so much like I had been before I saw the truth. He still foolishly believed that they could escape! That they would live happily ever after with this mansion being nothing but a bad dream they shared.

Such foolish hope had no place here in this mansion of death.

Even when turned human by the magic of the mansion, they acted as Nations. I would never grow old of this entertainment.

And then came _that_ time loop.

Everything went wrong. They all were still alive! They learned of the journal, they knew of Italy's travels through time. They would escape!

I could not allow that.

I made sure they met the monsters as often as possible, that even the smallest mistake spelled death. But they made no mistakes! And then he somehow brought help. His twin and another Nation got into the mansion, while others were outside, ready to help.

Why was everything going _wrong_? They could not escape, they were already dead!

I took the key from its spot, hiding it. They could not escape, never! He would go back in time over and over, and I would laugh as he cried when each fell one by one. Eventually he would see the truth, that all die the moment they enter the mansion, and perhaps I would let him die when he wishes.

But they _could not_ escape.

My only choice was to kill the one able to travel with the journal. But the magic one had to ruin it. So I tried to kill him too. He went blind from overusing his magic. The despair on the others' faces as each learned in turn of this new impairment was captivating. One in particular took it especially hard. I enjoyed seeing his heartbreak as he began to see that _no one escapes this mansion._

And _he_ died as well, although not the way I wished. He died of fright, not of the monsters tearing him apart piece by piece. This angered me. Even the deaths were wrong in this time loop!

No matter. Each would soon see that no one escapes. All would die eventually. And if I had to go out and find more victims, so be it. The Nations had actually started to get old anyways despite the impressive fighters they were.

They could not escape. The only way to live was to never enter the mansion.

_No one escapes the mansion._ Not even me.

And then they _escaped_. _He_ somehow lived, and they managed to escape, running away before the monsters could swarm about them.

But they could not escape!_ No one_ escapes the mansion! They had to _die_!

...right?

At that moment I realized. I could've saved them. I could've saved them!

I. Could. Have. Saved. Them.

No one had to die. No one. Not my friends, not the countless others I'd led into the mansion, not the Nations. Not me. No one!

What had I been thinking?! The mansion was death only to those who gave up. And when I had given up, I had dragged so many down with me into this Hell.

I had killed them all by bringing them here. Every last one. And I had laughed as they suffered. _Laughed_.

Those "monsters" weren't the real monster.

I was.

I am Ryuuzu, and I am the monster of the mansion.

* * *

**A/N** This is just my head-canon as to who/what Ryuuzu is, flowing out onto the page late one night. I was _heavily _inspired by the song "iNsAnITY" which, if you ask me, was practically _made_ for HetaOni.

Please review and tell me how I did, but _constructive_ criticism please.


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